


Project: Frozen Nebula

by monotropauniflora



Category: Captain America (Movies), Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Angst, Brainwashing, F/M, Grief, Loss, M/M, PTSD, Super Soldier Serum, Winter Soldier AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-19 12:29:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11897766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monotropauniflora/pseuds/monotropauniflora
Summary: Over two years have passed since Scarif. Cassian is only alive because of a mysterious serum that now courses through his veins. Sent to sabotage a mysterious Imperial project based on Coruscant, Cassian learns that he was not the only one to receive a dose of the strange substance that has provided him with enhanced combat abilities and resilience.He also learns that the new weapon the Empire has been working on happens to bear a familiar face.





	1. Flame and Dust

**Author's Note:**

> From my dumpster to yours, I bring you the Winter Soldier AU that nobody has asked for.
> 
> Has it been done before?  
> Probably.
> 
> Will I write it anyway?  
> You betcha.
> 
> "But, Monotropa, don't you have other things you should be writing instead?"  
>  _Shhhhhhh_

_Cassian wrapped his arms around her, ready to face the end with Jyn in his arms. On the horizon, light and heat._

_Over the roar of the wind, the sound of a ship zipping behind them, ramp lowered with the ship still in midair, a familiar figure hanging out of the_

_“Jyn!” He felt her turn in his arms, catching sight of their salvation._

_“Up, up!” Jyn tugged at his arms, forcing him to stand._

_From the West, a group of stormtroopers started charging towards the ship._

_His body ached as Jyn dragged him, both limping across the sand._

_“I can’t make it. Leave me, Jyn.”_

_“Like hell I will,” she spat through gritted teeth._

_Baze’s hand was reaching down for him._

_A trooper leveled his blaster._

_She pulled his from the holster on his hip._

_“Take him!” His body was being shoved, then pulled upward by strong arms. Something small and warm was pressed into his hand._

_“Jyn!”_

_He saw her aim his blaster._

_“Go!”_

_“JYN!”_

_Then the door closed._

_She was gone._

_He opened his hand, revealing a thick cord. At the end of it, a small Kyber crystal._

 

Cassian dreaded sleep. Each moment he closed his eyes, he saw her leaving him, again and again.

 _It should have been me. I should have been the one to die._  
He ran a hand over his face, trying to wipe away the memory of his failure. Two years, seven months, and 15 days. That was how long he had lived without her. Each day ate at him a little more than the last.

There was a soft knock at his door. 

“Cassian, are you ready?” Bodhi’s voice brought him back to the present.

“Yeah, give me a second.”

He grabbed his duffel, zipping the few belongings he needed. Around his neck, the crystal burned. A constant reminder of what he lost, of what could have been. Swallowing hard, he felt the mask of neutrality slip back over his face.

The door slid open. The pilot stood patiently, waiting for him. “Let’s go.”

 

The ride to Coruscant was long. Bodhi did his best to distract Cassian. All of the pretending in the world could not fool Bodhi when it came to Cassian’s grief. He had been by Cassian’s side as the man wept for his droid and for Jyn.

K-2SO, who had been Cassian’s only friend and companion for so many years.

And Sergeant Jyn Erso, the woman who gave her life for a cause she had not chosen, who died to atone for her father’s sins. Jyn, who pushed him aboard the ship. Who stayed behind to fight off the enemy. Bodhi knew Cassian would never be free of the guilt that plagued him, day and night, since Scarif. Sometimes, Bodhi blamed himself. He had heard Jyn cry out, “Go.” He hadn’t realized she never boarded the ship. Not until Cassian, broken and bloody, came charging into the cockpit demanding he turn the ship around.

But by then, the surface of Scarif was nothing but flame and dust.

Cassian listened as Bodhi prattled on about his last run, appreciating the reprieve from his own thoughts. The gentle thrum of the engines filled the silence after the pilot concluded his tale.

“So, what can you tell me about this mission?” Bodhi asked after a moment.

“How much do you already know?”

“I know I will be on Coruscant, waiting until you disable some project the Empire has been working on.”

“Sounds like you already know as much as I do,” Cassian muttered, studying the screen of his datapad. “We only received whispers of the project, but it was designed to create what the Empire refers to as ‘Perfect Soldiers’, who will follow orders without question or hesitation.”

“Right. And how are you going to disable this project?”

“No idea.” Cassian was not even sure he could put an end to a project like this. Regardless, it was the objective that he had been tasked with, so he was duty-bound to try. His best guess was that the project involved some form of brainwashing, techniques for which had been around since people discovered the art of manipulation. 

_There has to be more to it than that, or I wouldn’t be the one sent on this mission._ The thought had been eating at Cassian from the moment the General pulled him aside and handed him the file.

“At least you have that stuff running inside your veins.”

“Don’t remind me.” 

_“That stuff” saved your life_ , a little voice in Cassian’s head reminded him. He couldn’t deny the truth of it. His injuries had been far too extensive for normal medicine. General Draven had made the call. And though it helped him heal, Cassian Andor hated the General for what it had done to him.

 

_“How do you feel, Captain?” Draven asked._

_Cassian looked around the white room, empty save for himself and the General. He sat up, trying to figure out what was different. “The pain is gone,” the realization came suddenly. “How long was I out?”_

_“Not long. Do you notice anything else?”_

_Cassian shook his head, pulling the blankets back. “Cold? Where are we?”_

_“Echo Base. On Hoth. Captain Andor, this is important. I need to know if you are experiencing any side effects.” Draven’s patience was beginning to wear thin._

_“Side effects of what?”_

 

A tall figure stood in the window, gazing down at the city below.

“Status update on Project: Frozen Nebula?”

“Subject 12B appears to have responded well to the re-education program.”

“And has the body rejected the serum?”

“The drug has been successfully absorbed into her system. We are still waiting on our test results to understand the effects.”

“How much of the serum remains?”

“None, sir. The other subjects… Did not respond well to their injections.”

The man pursed his lips, dissatisfied with the news. “Very well. Bring Subject 12B to me. I wish to view our success. 

“And Doctor? Send me the test results as soon as they are ready.”

The Doctor nodded before realizing the man’s back was to him. He cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”

“You are dismissed.” He raised a glass to his lips, sipping carefully. A few minutes later, he heard the door open with a soft hiss. Footsteps, so quiet they were nearly inaudible, announced the arrival of his guest. “Ah, Subject 12B. Welcome.”

He turned to face her, the sole survivor of Project: Frozen Nebula. He smiled as he took her in. She was small, smaller than he would have thought. But she moved with strength and control, arms swinging by her side. The lights filtering in through the large window caught on her left arm, glinting against the metal. The weapon kept silent, waiting for orders. A perfect soldier.


	2. All That Jazz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian's meeting with an informant goes awry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly had no idea so many people would be interested in this idea. So thank you!
> 
> (Admittedly, this isn't one of the craziest crossover AU ideas I have had, but it is probably the only one that will see the light of day.)

“Where are you meeting him?”

“Someplace called _The Swooning Moon Saloon_ ,” Cassian answered. His contact, Gastin Wyx, had promised information. For the right price, of course.

The pilot nodded, filing away the information. He was not a field operative, but Bodhi could keep a surprisingly cool head when necessary. “You know how to reach me if something happens.”

Cassian admired Bodhi. Scarif changed them—all of them. But Bodhi only seemed to be made stronger by it. He had the nightmares and flashbacks like everyone else, but he had become a far more confident man than the one rescued from Jedha. 

_At least the Rebellion did something good for one of us,_ Cassian thought. The ever-present knife twisted in his gut, the constant reminder of what this fight had taken from him. But he couldn’t give up this fight. She had died for it. She had died for him. And he had this—this stuff in him now. The Rebellion needed him to be more than just a spy. The number of assassinations he had been sent on had increased exponentially. 

“It shouldn’t take long,” Cassian said, adjusting his jacket. _The Swooning Moon Saloon_ was a slightly nicer establishment than he usually went to when meeting contacts. But Wyx belonged to a different class than many of his other contacts. Checking his reflection in a cracked mirror, Cassian made sure that the blaster was completely undetectable before he stepped off the ship.

The city was full and bustling. Cassian was slight and quick, weaving between the jostling crowds. The jazz club would be starting to fill up soon. The last time he had been there, the club had been fairly new. The décor was full of rich reds, browns, and golds—a drastic contrast to the typical monochromatic atmosphere of the city and the neon of the standard nightclubs. Unease twisted inside him. Spending time in the Imperial Center as a Rebel officer was never something Cassian relished. Even just approaching atmo was met with intensive scrutiny by the Empire.

The music was audible from outside. A woman’s voice crooning into a microphone wove underneath the rabble of the streets. Cassian let the smooth, rhythmic pulse of the music lead him towards the club. An imposing figure at the door eyed him with disinterest as Cassian filtered in with the rest of the crowd.

“Ah, Sward. You’re early.” As expected, Gastin Wyx was seated in a corner booth, shrouded in dramatic shadow. Everything about him was dramatic, down to his shoes (a garish red number with a too-tall heel). “Does this mean you will actually stay around long enough to enjoy the music this time?”

“That depends,” Cassian quipped with a small smile, easing into the personality.

“All work and no play. Here, let’s get you something to drink.” Wyx raised a hand to wave down a droid.

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Oh, you are no fun! At least one drink.”

Joreth conceded, and Wyx ordered him something local with a name he had never heard. He sipped the drink politely while his informant prattled on about local gossip for a few minutes, glancing around the room with barely concealed caution. On the stage, the singer stepped down for a break and the musicians picked up a quick, wordless number. Laughing patrons swung themselves around the center of the room, clear of tables. The click of feet on the shining dance floor fell in time to the beat of the drums, lights and spinning figures reflected on the dark surface.

Gastin leaned in close. “I am sure I do not need to remind you of the danger I face speaking with you. My clients trust me to be… discrete.”

“Of course. You will be properly compensated.”

“Always to the point.” Gastin allowed himself a quick smile before leaning in even closer. “I am sure you have heard rumors trickling down the ladder.”

“Assume I haven’t.” 

“Well, I am afraid I don’t know much.” Gastin took another quick glance around the room before continuing. “There have been experiments. On soldiers.”

“Mind control, right?”

“No, more than that. Brainwashing has been around since the dawn of sentience. This is something different… New. A drug.”

That invisible knife in Cassian’s gut gave a twist. “Drug? What drug?”

“I don’t know. Some dead scientist made it. Killed himself before giving up the formula. Couldn’t tell you much more about it, except that it has been used.”

“For what?”

“Project: Frozen Nebula.” Cassian could barely hear Wyx’s hushed tone over the sounds of the jazz club.

“Wha—”

Gastin froze, eyes locking on something across the room. “Kriff.”

Cassian’s hand drifted towards his blaster. 

“I need to leave. Now.” Gastin stood, every movement jerking and stiff. His eyes flicked towards the nearest exit. 

Cassian fought the urge to look around the room. “Then let’s go.” He stood, through a casual glance behind him. There, several Imperial officers. One was looking their way, speaking into a comm. “One of your clients?”

Wyx let out a nervous snort. “I wish.”

Swearing inwardly, Cassian briefly mapped out his escape. He could do so easily, but he would be leaving Gastin Wyx behind.

“Come on,” he said instead, gently grabbing Wyx by the elbow and leading him through the patrons of the club. Through the dim light and the bodies, Cassian could make out the figures moving towards the exit, hoping to cut them off. “Quickly.”

Two thoughts entered Cassian’s mind.

_Too many people have been left behind._

_This is a bad idea. A very bad idea._ This second thought sounded suspiciously like Kay.

 

“Hey!”

“Watch where you are going!”

Annoyed dancers called out as Cassian and Gastin pushed and shoved their way through the jostling throng of people. There was a loud clatter and crash of glasses as someone—Cassian was not sure who—bumped into a serving droid.

“Go go go!” Cassian shoved Wyx through the door, throwing a quick look back. The bright lights of the city met them as soon as they were free of the club. “We can lose them in the crowd. Come on.” Cassian began following the flow of foot traffic, letting it sweep him up in its ceaseless current. “Stop looking back. You will draw too much attention.”

“Sorry, I just—”

A flash of red. 

Wyx crumpled.

Screams, everywhere. The sea of people around him parted as people ran for cover.

A figure dropped from a skywalk two stories above, landing in a crouch. 

A flash of neon glinted across a metal arm as the figure straightened, blaster raised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been listening to a lot of electroswing and contemporary jazz lately, plus I wanted an excuse to give myself the mental picture of a well-dressed Cassian.
> 
> Feel free to leave feedback. Tell me what you like, what you didn't like. I can take it. Just don't be a jerk, please.
> 
> But I know you won't be. Because all of you guys are wonderful.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so I had to keep Bucky's infamous metal arm. Plus, Jyn took on several troopers on a planet that was burning. So she couldn't just get out unscathed.
> 
> This version of the super soldier serum is similar to Marvel's, but I am not going to have it make Cassian or Jyn into beefy versions of themselves. That would just feel silly.
> 
> I mean, this whole fic is going to be pretty silly. But even I have to draw the line somewhere.


End file.
